


Something to Rely On

by TangiblyYours



Series: Somewhere Only We Know [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangiblyYours/pseuds/TangiblyYours
Summary: "Within a matter of hours, the six of them were on the highway with no real destination in mind whatsoever. Richie hadn't planned on going on an impulsive, God-only-knows-how-long road trip with his buddies from grade school only two days after killing a fucking clown...And yet, here he was."Or, Richie and Eddie go on a road trip together and get everything they ever wanted.





	1. oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the first part of the series 'Somewhere to Begin'! It Chapter 2 explained from my perspective to get us here. It's not necessary, but everything will make a lot more sense.

Richie Tozier had nightmares.

All-consuming nightmares; the kind that would devour you from the inside out, creeping in during a moment of peace, right when you least expected it. Nightmares that would saturate every bone and muscle fiber in your body. Nightmares that would make you run cold with fear, locked in place and unable to move.

The kind of nightmares that would have even the most composed and levelheaded man jolting awake in fear. And Richie certainly had neither one of those qualities about himself.  
Without fail, every single night, Richie Tozier had those nightmares.

Despite the fact that they had just defeated Pennywise only two nights prior, Richie’s experience with the nightmares was nothing new to him. However, they had altered drastically since that night’s events. Now when he woke up, he was breathing heavily with Eddie’s name on the tip of his tongue. Grasping at a mere ghost of the nightmare as it replayed the scene he had witnessed in the deadlights.

Before the call from Mike Hanlon about a week ago, Richie still had the nightmares. However, when he would wake up he would remember virtually nothing of what had happened within the dream. Just a cold fear so deep it weighed heavily inside his stomach and made him feel ill.

Now, though, he awoke remembering every deep, dark aspect to the horrible dreams. He could almost taste the thick iron tang of blood on his lips, even though that specific moment was long in his past. He could smell the rot from the sewer, feel the moisture clinging to his clothes. It was all too real, and when he woke up, startled and alone in his bed, it took a long time for the fear to dissipate, clinging to him as the water and filth had clung to him in the dream.

As he awoke from this particular nightmare, two nights after finally defeating Pennywise on Neibolt street, Richie yet again had Eddie’s name on his tongue, fear coiling deep in his chest.

He blinked several times to clear the sleep from his eyes, and glanced carefully around his quiet room at the Townhouse in Derry, Maine. Taking a deep breath, he laid back in bed once more.

His return flight home hadn’t even been booked yet and even Richie didn’t know why at this point. The reason for his return was no more, and somehow the fear and nightmares were significantly worse in this little hell-hole town, but still, Richie hadn’t made any real attempt to get out.

He told himself he didn’t know what was holding him back, but oh yes, he did.

_Eddie_.

The name was still balanced carefully on the tip of his tongue.

And not just Eddie, either, but the rest of his friends, too. They were all still in Derry, just casually dancing around each other and the fact that their darkest fears had come to a final head two days ago.

Not a single one of them had so much as mentioned leaving yet.

And not a single one of them knew what they were waiting for.

Likely, it had to do with the fact that they had all just gotten each other back after all these years of forgotten memories. They didn’t want to leave again so quickly, equally afraid that the memories of each other would be lost once more.

So, instead, they stayed. And for now, Richie thought, that was enough.

-&-

The next morning, Richie met everyone in the lobby of the townhouse. It was quiet as usual, but there was something mildly different hanging in the air, something lighter, happier even.

“Why are we all still so miserable?” Ben had started, looking around the room. “We did it, guys! It’s finally fucking gone!”

The unspoken words hung in the air between them. We lost one of our own in the process. _Stanley_.

Ben faltered, sitting in one of the arm chairs and sighing deeply.

“I have an idea,” Bill mumbled from where he was perched on one of the bar stools. “Let’s get out of here. B-but, like... together.” He stood then, addressing everyone in the room, his eyes sweeping from Richie to Ben to Bev to Eddie and settling carefully on Mike. “That’s what we’re all worried ab-b-bout, right? Leaving and forgetting each other again? So, let’s leave this shithole town together and take a trip, somewhere n-nice, and really catch up before we go home.” Bill became more animated as he spoke, gesturing his excitement and pacing carefully back and forth. “We’ll make it a yearly thing. Just in case the loss of memory had nothing to do with Pennywise. W-w-we’ll muh-make sure we d-don’t forget again.”

Richie watched him before glancing around the room. Looking into the faces of his friends, his family that, up until a week ago, he had forgotten virtually every aspect of. He didn’t want to lose this again, he didn’t want to lose them.

And his subconscious added to that thought as his gaze settled on Eddie._ I don’t want to lose him._

“Bill, count me down, buddy!” he enthused, standing from his spot in the armchair. “You losers coming with us?”

Ben glanced up to Bev. She had perched herself on the arm of Ben’s chair, and she was smiling, bright and warm. “I think that sounds like a great idea,” she said and her gaze cut down to Ben. He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m in,” he spoke to the rest of them.

Bill turned his glance to Mike.

“Y’know, I’ve been needing to get out of this town for a long time. I think this is it.” Mike’s smile was open and carefree, probably for the first time in a very long while.

Everyone’s gaze turned to Eddie in that moment. Richie couldn’t help himself as he stared the other man up and down. He had a gauze bandage carefully tapped to his wounded cheek, and a dark black and blue eye. Richie suspected the black eye had come from when they tumbled backwards off from the rocky incline under Neibolt.

A shudder ran down his spine as he thought of that moment, as he thought about the near miss that would have resulted in the loss of not just one, but _two_ of the most important people in his life. He shook his head to clear the thought.

After they had escaped the house and watched it tumble to the ground, Richie had been a mess. There was no other words for it, his breathing had been erratic, and a giant hole had taken over his stomach. He felt empty with fear, unable to process and adjust.

Eddie had almost died, it had been so fucking close. Just a hair to the right and a moment too late, and it would have been all over for him. ‘_For them_,’ Richie’s thoughts filled in gently.

It took every single one of his friends to calm him down, all of them eventually reaching out to him, supporting him. And it took a while, but soon, Richie’s breathing evened pace and he was able to calm his nerves.

And while he would never admit it to himself, or anyone else for that matter, he had followed Eddie around all day like a lost damn puppy. Just needing the constant reminder that he was there, he was okay, he was alive.

Before Mike Hanlon's call, it had been a very, very long time since Richie had thought of--remembered--his friends from Derry. However, after having received the phone call, memories had filtered into his mind one by one, filling him with emotions he hadn't even known existed. And these memories weren't just basic facts that his mind had forgotten about, no.

Suddenly, he was able to recall every feeling, every fear, every moment of joy and gut-wrenching laughter, every moment of bone-crushing sadness. In the moments after that phone call, Richie was quite literally assaulted with these feelings. This all-consuming warmth, comfort, love, terror, agony, sadness, all at once. All things he felt from that summer of '89, and even though it had been over 27 years ago, it felt as though it had been only a moment's time since it had happened.

The sensation was so potent that it felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

And it didn't stop, these feelings and emotions and memories. They flooded his mind, making it their home, so many of them it felt as though his memories from even that morning were long in his past, now consumed by these thoughts of his childhood.

He was filled with this awareness, this warmth that he hadn't even known he was missing. He felt whole, suddenly.

He remembered Bill's stutter, his leadership role among them. He remembered the dark pain that has existed in Bill's eyes the summer after Georgie's death. It was almost as though the other boy had been perpetually plagued by the absence of his brother and a guilt he had inexplicably harbored.

He remembered Ben's compassion and warmth. The first time they met when he had realized just how lonely Ben was, and how he suspected that Ben was one of the missing pieces to their little puzzle.

He remembered Beverly. The girl who would sneak cigarettes with him and match every crude joke he tossed her way. When they first met, she had come across as subdued and quiet. However, Richie had quickly learned that Beverly had a fire in her soul that would not, _could not_, be extinguished.

He remembered Mike. The structure and support he had provided. He had been the last one to join their little group, and as soon as he was there, it was as though they were whole.

He remembered Stanley. Quite, humble, careful Stanley. Always watching out for them and keeping close tabs on the people he loved so thoroughly. He remembered the time when Richie had tossed an exceptionally vulgar comment Stanley's way, and Stanley glanced at him, barely even reacting, and slapped Richie upside the head in a way that was almost fond. He tried so hard to hide his grin, but Richie had caught it.

And, finally, he remembered Eddie.

He remembered Eddie's neuroticism. The way he would shove at Richie every time Richie threatened to lick the side of his face just because he knew how much it grossed Eddie out.

He remembered Eddie's spitfire personality, his temper, his short fuse that Richie just loved to light so he could watch the slow detonation.

He remembered Eddie's warmth and compassion. How if Richie ever did falter, breaking his character, and needed a shoulder to lean on or someone to listen, Eddie was always fucking there. Even if it was three in the morning on a school night. If Richie called, Eddie was there.

He remembered the games they would play, how they would shove at each other, taunt each other, curse back and forth as though they were sailors. Eddie never let Richie get away with anything; he was always able to bounce back with an equally biting comment. And Richie fucking _loved_ it.

They would fight with each other incessantly.

And Richie remembered the way the two of them had almost always used that as an excuse to be touching.

He remembered poking Eddie's side until it annoyed him so much that he would inevitably tackle Richie to the ground. They would wrestle with each other, and most of the time, it would result in Richie tickling Eddie until the other could no longer breath. He remembered watching movies with the losers every Friday night at Bill's house, and how Eddie _always_ sat next to him. About halfway through the movie, Eddie would always fall asleep and bury himself into Richie's side, Richie's arm draped over the Eddie's shoulders and Eddie's face tucked carefully into Richie's chest.

He remembered how he watched Eddie, always. How his gaze would instinctively follow Eddie, and how Richie almost seemed to move unconsciously with and towards him at all times.

He remembered the feelings of warmth he had when he was with Eddie, a feeling of wholeness, of _home_. He remembered it so fervently that his stomach ached with the realization he couldn't reach out and touch Eddie in that exact moment. _How had he possibly forgotten this?_

At that time, still at his home in L.A., Richie wondered just how long he had loved Eddie and had not known it.

Richie was pulled from his thoughts in that moment, as Eddie's gaze settled on him. It grounded him to where he stood, and Richie felt a hot surge of electricity course down his spine. Not for the first time in even the last twenty minutes, Richie wanted, almost needed, to reach out and touch him.

"Of course," Eddie spoke, his gaze still focused solely on Richie. "I'll follow you guys anywhere."

-&-

"Listen." Eddie's hushed voice could just barely be heard from where Richie stood outside of Eddie's guest room at the townhouse. Their rooms had been right next to one another, and he figured he would wait for him before heading down to check out and meet with the others. The door to Eddie's room was cracked opened. Richie had entertained the idea of going in, but thought better of it once he realized he was on the phone. "I know I didn't say much when I was leaving-"

Pause.

"-yes, Myra, I know." Eddie sounded exasperated, like he was reaching a tipping point.

A longer pause this time.

"_Listen_," Eddie said again, a little more forceful. Richie shifted awkwardly where he stood in the hall. "I really don't know what to tell you, Myra?" He said this as a question, but the tone of his voice left zero room for negotiating. "This is happening whether you want it to or not. Honestly, I don't know when I'll be home," Eddie paused, as though thinking for a moment. "And, honestly, Myra, we really need to sit down and talk when I get home. A few things have changed since I've been home."

Silence now; Richie could only wonder what the other half of this conversation sounded like.

"Yeah, I know I sound different!" Eddie stated dully. "I am different, and it's really not a conversation for over the phone, alright? There's a lot going on here that you don't know about. Honestly, that I didn't even know about until a few days ago."

Richie peeked his head around the corner of the doorway to glance inside the guest room. Eddie was pacing back and forth, and had the phone pulled away from his head by a few inches as though the person on the other end was shouting. He raised his other hand and ran it through his hair. Richie followed the movement with his eyes.

All of a sudden, Eddie halted his movement. He turned from where he was standing to face the door of the guest room, as though he could sense that someone was watching him. As soon as he realized Richie was there, he offered a sheepish smile before returning to his pacing.

"Yeah, I don't know what to tell you," Eddie stated again into the phone. "Listen, I've got to go. I've got people waiting for me. Like I said, we'll talk when I get home."

And with that, Eddie clicked the end button on the phone. Not a single '_good-bye_' or '_love you, Myra_', and not even the slightest hint of affection in his words. Somehow, that made Richie smile.

Within a moment, Eddie was in the doorway to the guest room, his several packed bags being carted behind him. "Sorry about that," Eddie started, small smile still in place as he glanced up at Richie. "Figured I should probably give at least a little bit of a heads up I might not be home for a while."

Richie nodded, throwing one arm around Eddie's shoulders and taking one of his bags from him. After all, Richie only had a small duffel. Maybe he really should have packed a bit more, but he hadn't planned on going on an impulsive, God-only-knows-how-long roadtrip with his buddies from grade school.

"What's the matter, Eds?" Richie taunted. He turned to glance at Eddie once more, and in his next few words, spoke in the old, uppity British accent from his childhood. The voice had been long from his past and forgotten much like everything else. "Trouble in paradise, Eds, ay, wot-wot?"

Surprisingly, Eddie didn't react much to Richie's provocation. Rather, he seemed to lean into Richie's side and scowl at the ground. "Something like that," he muttered. "Y'know, I don't think I've been happy in that relationship for a long time...or life in general, really...but I didn't realize just _how_ unhappy I was until I started to remember and until I got here."

Richie knew what Eddie was talking about. It was almost as though Richie didn't even really, truly know himself until he got that call from Mike and started to remember the pieces of himself that he had been missing. It was catastrophic, knowing he had gone through a large portion of his life missing such intrinsic pieces of who he was.

"Like," Eddie started again as they continued to move to the lobby. "She's just like my mother. Which, apparently, I had completely forgotten about, as well. When I left Derry, I guess a majority of my mother's neuroses got left behind alongside my memories," he paused again, sounding irritated. "I basically married my fucking mother and I had no idea. I can't fucking go back to that."

At that, Richie threw his head back in laughter. "Gee, Eds, I always thought I would be the one to marry your mom, not _you_," Richie chortled.

Eddie threw his elbow deep into Richie's side, and Richie recoiled but used the arm that was slung over Eddie's shoulder to pull his head down and ruffle his hair. He laughed carelessly as Eddie continued to jab into his side, trying to get him to stop fucking with his hair.

As they walked, they borderline wrestled with each other down the entire hallway. As soon as Eddie was able to lift his head from Richie's grasp, he reached out and shoved him into the wall. Richie bounced back without even a moment of hesitation and knocked into Eddie, trying desperately to catch the other in a headlock again.

It was like this that they entered the lobby to the townhouse, all of their friends waiting and watching from the bar.

"F-finally," Bill exclaimed, jumping from his spot on one of the bar stools. "Let's get this sh-show on the road!"

-&-

The few of them that had rented vehicles from the airport returned them, and the others (Bill and Ben who had taken respective cabs from their flight, and Mike who obviously hadn't needed transportation at all) road along with them.

Once they all arrived at the rental company and returned their vehicles, they decided that purchasing a different rental to fit them all would be their most productive course of action. After discussing with the attendant for a while, they settled on a Chevrolet Tahoe with unlimited miles to travel anywhere within the United States. They even discussed other locations of the rental company that they could return the vehicle to if they decided not to come back this way at all.

Within a matter of hours, the six of them were on the highway with no real destination in mind whatsoever.

They had decided they would all take turns driving, and at night, they would bunk up in hotels.

"So where should we head first?" Bill started. All of them, including Bill himself, seemed to notice how the farther away from Derry he got, the more his stutter seemed to improve. It was still there, but marginally less noticeable during a casual conversation.  
Bill was the first to drive and Mike was in the passenger seat; in the center was Ben and Beverly, and in the very back was Eddie and Richie. Eddie had moaned when they had decided how the seating for the drive would go, but it was half-hearted, and Richie could tell it was just for show.

"Eddie," Beverly had said at the time. "Let's be real here, you're the only one of us that can put up with being next to him for that long."

"Ey, babe!" Richie yelped. "I'll be right behind you, I can still reach around to annoy you, too!"

Mike had chuckled. "Richie, somehow, I think you'll still be able to annoy all of us."

They had also decided unanimously and regardless of Eddie's opposition that they would room together when stopping for the night. It would be Ben and Beverly (obviously--everyone could see the direction their relationship was going in just the past two days alone), Bill and Mike, and Richie and Eddie. "It's perfect!" Ben had exclaimed, holding onto Bev's hand and smiling foolishly at her.

Richie had slung his arm around Eddie's shoulder for approximately the fourth time in the last two hours and made smooching noises in his direction. "Just so perfect, Eddie Spaghetti!" Eddie had simply scowled and pushed Richie away also for approximately the fourth time in the last two hours.

Everyone around them had laughed, Eddie had tried to hide his smile, and Richie absolutely could not control his beaming smile.

-&-

The first real place they stopped (not just for gas or snacks or to use the restroom) was Claremont, New Hampshire.

They had been driving for almost five hours, it was slowly approaching 6 in the afternoon, and all of them were combating stomach pangs of hunger with leftover chips and candy from their previous pit stops.

"Do you guys want to stop here for the night? Or just stop for a bite to eat and get back on the road?" Bill had questioned as they got out of the vehicle.

They had pulled up to this little diner with a real homey look to it. There weren't too many vehicles in the parking lot and there was a roadside message board in front stating that they had the best custard in all of New Hampshire. Richie had all but squawked his excitement and demanded that Bill pull over.

Eddie crawled from the back of the Tahoe and stretched carefully, trying to remove the kinks from his back. "Well, I found a pretty reasonably priced hotel in Albany if you guys wanna drive a couple more hours west. Have we decided our destination yet, or are we just driving until we find it?"

Richie was next to crawl from the car, and tried not to stare at the spot where Eddie's shirt rode up just a little as he stretched, exposing a layer of milky, smooth flesh on his stomach. Richie's stomach ached a little, and he thought maybe this time had nothing to do with hunger. _At least not the conventional type._

"Albany sounds good to me," Mike started. "We'll have made two states away from that hell-hole. The farther, the better, if you ask me."

Everyone was standing outside of the Tahoe, casually discussing their trip, and Richie thought he was about to die. "Can we take this conversation inside? I think my stomach is about to open itself up and consume Eddie here if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You're so fucking dramatic," he said as he turned and started walking toward the diner entrance. Richie all but bounced and followed him in.

-&-

About three and a half hours later, they were pulling into the hotel in Albany.

Eddie had been able to reserve three rooms online while they were eating at the little diner in Claremont. Richie had proclaimed that _'yes! they do have the best custard in all of New Hampshire!'_ even though he had absolutely nothing to compare it to.

The hotel they were staying at was affordable and in a fairly large part of the city. They figured they could get up and check out in time for a decent breakfast and perhaps shop around downtown a little before getting back on the road.

They checked into their respective room by 10 p.m. and virtually all of them were in a deep slumber by 10:30 p.m., completely wiped from their day on the road. And, admittedly, having to listen to Richie chat through the whole fucking car ride.

Eddie, however, laid awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering mindlessly if Richie was asleep in the bed next to his.

He hadn't even had time to turn and look before he heard a quiet 'Eddie?' come from the other side of the room.

"Yeah?" Eddie whispered, quietly even though it was not needed. They were the only two in the room, and they were both obviously still awake.

"Do you have nightmares?"

At this, Eddie turned in his bed to face Richie and rested his head on his elbow for support. "Yeah, of course, I do. I figured we all did."

"Did you have nightmares before Mike called?" Richie sounded...oddly small. Eddie couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

He thought for a minute. "Yeah. I did. I would just wake up and not be able to remember them." It took another moment of deep thought before he opened his mouth again. "I think I used to dream about you guys a lot. About you guys getting hurt, or taken... I would wake up with this fear, this ache in my chest and it was like something was missing and I could never figure out what it was. It was like I was scared to lose something that I didn't know existed..." he paused. "Scared to lose something that I already lost."

Even though it was dark in the room, Eddie could see the movement of Richie's head as he nodded, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

"Me, too." Richie had turned to face him as well, only about three feet of distance separating their two beds. If Eddie had reached out far enough, he thought he could have maybe touched Richie's arm. "I have them every night, have for as long as I can remember. That's why I never wanted to get into a serious relationship. Never wanted to try and explain nightmares I didn't even know why I had."

"I don't sleep in the same room as Myra," Eddie stated. "Haven't for a long fucking time."

Richie was quiet once more, thoughtful. "If you're not happy, Eds, why do you stay?"

"I'm not planning on it," Eddie started, and remembered that Richie had been outside of the door for at least a portion of the conversation he had with his wife earlier in the day. "That's why I told her we need to talk when I get home. Honestly, I can't keep living the way I have been. Not after remembering all of this. Not knowing what I know now."

Much like Richie, when Eddie started to recall all of his memories from Derry, all of the emotions came with, full-force.

Suddenly, he remembered this life he hadn't even known existed and it had changed him inexplicably and irrevocably. Knowing what he now knew, knowing the feelings that he harbored deep in his chest, there was no way he could ever go back to being with Myra.

When Eddie started to remember his past, he remembered vivid aspects of who he was that he had actually _tried_ to forget when he was growing up.

Eddie was not attracted to women. Not in any way, shape, or form.

Eddie was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Richie take a deep, shuddering breath in the bed across from him. "My nightmares have been worse in the past couple days. I don't think it's just 'cause I can remember them now," Richie paused, careful, cautious. "I think it's because of what happened."

And Richie doesn't have to elaborate for Eddie to know exactly what he was referring to. Eddie could still feel the ghost of the talon scrap across his back as Richie had pulled him down and away from the threat. He could still feel himself being all but tossed backwards and down the rocky slope of the cavern beneath Neibolt.

The way the Richie had grasped onto him in that moment, as they had stopped moving, was desperate and terrified. As though the other man was aware of their fate if he didn't keep pulling them in the opposite direction. And maybe he was, Eddie thought, they certainly hadn't talked about it. Especially after the thorough melt down that Richie had in the cavern and again on the street outside of the house. No one had dared mention it, too afraid to dredge up any residual fear within him. Richie had been utterly wrecked. And it had taken a long time to talk him down from his fear.

Eddie simply hummed in response to Richie's statement, unsure of what to say. Afraid to push the conversation, afraid to address it in general, honestly.

Richie clenched his eyes shut. He seemed delicate in that moment, Eddie thought, and Richie was not _delicate_. Anything but. However, when they had pulled him from Neibolt, and in those moments right before and right after, Richie had been even more than delicate. He had been already broken, at that point.

"I had seen it all," Richie whispered suddenly, and Eddie had to lean impossibly closer to the edge of the bed to even be able to hear. "I had seen it happen."

No one had asked Richie after that afternoon. No one had asked him what he had meant when he had been shouting on the street of Neibolt. No one had tried to understand what the other had gone through.

So, Eddie, in that moment, was fairly unaware of what Richie was even talking about. He knew a little, but not enough to understand the full picture.

"What did you see, Richie?" Eddie asked carefully.

Richie opened his eyes then, and his bright blue irises cut into the darkness to focus on Eddie. He could see the nerves that shone within them. "I saw him kill you, Eds."

And that much, Eddie did know. He remembered the words that Richie had shouted at Bill on the street corner:_ 'he killed him, Bill! I saw it, he killed him!' _However, that was all Eddie knew, and it seemed like Richie, in this moment, wanted to explain more.

"I know," Eddie whispered, trying his hardest to sound pacifying.

"I know I told you guys that I saw it, but...I don't think you understand. I saw it, and it was real. He killed you, and if I hadn't seen it, it would have _happened_." Richie sounded just slightly out of breath. "Remember how when Bev was caught in the deadlights when we were thirteen? And how just a few days ago she said that during that she had seen every single one of us die? That's what I saw, Eddie, I saw how you were about to die."

Eddie watched Richie cautiously, afraid to move or talk. He could see the fear in Richie's eyes, hear it in every word he spoke.

"It felt so fucking real, Eds. Like, I don't even know how to explain in. And I couldn't move or do anything. That talon went right through your chest, and I could feel warm blood on my face, _fuck_! I could _taste_ it."

"Richie..." Eddie started, sympathetic.

That moment lingered for a few minutes, quiet settling over them. Something heavy sat in Eddie's stomach, and his throat felt like there was something stuck in it. "It was honestly one of the worst things I've ever experienced in my entire life..." Richie looked somber, closed his eyes for a few moments. However, when he opened them, the fear and sadness were gone. "And, I mean, I've had sex with your mom, so?"

At that, there was a noticeable shift in the room. A tension had been building between them since the moment they had started talking, but now it seemed to shatter. And, suddenly, Eddie was laughing.

And Richie was, too. It was as though the conversation hadn't happened at all; or maybe that it had happened but he had realized that it was in their past now and the threat was no longer there.

As his laughter subsided, Eddie's eyes caught Richie's once more. And there was this warmth there, this adoration, and Eddie felt his heart tug tight in his chest. His chuckles tapered off slowly, and his eyes felt as though they held the same mixture of emotion as Richie's. "But I'm alright, buddy. It didn't happen. Everything's good now."

To punctuate his point, Eddie reached his hand out into the space between their two beds, a silent invitation.

Without even a moment of hesitation, Richie reached across and grasped onto Eddie's hand.

Within moments, they were asleep.

-&-

The next morning, Richie awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door.

He jolted upright, and without even being aware that his and Eddie's hands were still clasped in the empty space between the two beds, yanked his arm away.

As such, Richie yanked hard enough, while also grasping tightly to Eddie's hand, that he inadvertently and unintentionally pulled Eddie off from his bed entirely and onto the floor.

Eddie had awaken as he was being pulled roughly off from his bed. He sat up from where he had fallen onto the floor, rubbed his head that had casually hit the nightstand on his way down, and glared up at Richie. He squinted against the harsh sunlight that was coming in from behind the curtain. "Jesus, fuck, Richie!"

There was banging at the door once more, and Richie catapulted himself off from the bed to answer it.

As soon as he stopped at the door, Richie pulled it open to reveal Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly, all dressed, packed, and ready to go.

Bill's jaw dropped slightly, seeing the frazzled man in his pajamas, "you're not ready, yet!"

Ben glanced around Richie and into the room and chuckled. He pulled Bev over so she could see and pointed at where Eddie still sat on the floor between the two beds, carefully rubbing his skull.

"Rough night, boys?" Bev teased.

"Oh, fuck off, Beverly," Eddie grumbled. "I just got man-handled onto the floor because of your impatient asses."

"Man-handled, ay?" Ben retorted while Bev made an_ 'ooooo'_ sound. Eddie curtly flipped them off and pushed himself off from the floor. Neither one of them offered any further explanation as to why Eddie was on the floor.

Richie rubbed his eyes, and glanced around the room to find a clock. "What time is it?"

"It's almost noon, Richie," Mike said. "Check out was literally an hour ago, and we went to breakfast without you guys."

At that, Eddie started coughing excessively from where he was pouring a glass of water from the sink. "What the fuck? It's fucking _noon_?"

Realizing it was going to be a little while before they were ready to leave, Bill, Ben, Bev, and Mike all pushed their way past Richie and sat on the little sofa in the room.

"Yeah, what kept you guys up so late last night?" Bev asked with a lilt to her voice, her insinuation obvious in her tone.

This time it was Richie's turn to flip her off, and he casually walked over to his small duffel in search of a pair of jeans and his tooth brush. "Shove it, Bev, I couldn't sleep."

"So you made Eddie not sleep, too, then?" Ben replied with a grin.

Hearing his name, Eddie turned toward the group and rolled his eyes. He leaned carefully against the little kitchenette counter. "Oh for fuck's sake, does anyone have a Tylenol? My head's killing me." His glare turned back to Richie. "Motherfucker, I can't believe to pulled me onto the floor."

Richie waved his hand dismissively. "Right-o, chap!" Richie belted out in his poor British accent. "You heard the man! Time to move! Tally-ho, and all that rot!" With that, Richie turned into the bathroom and slammed the door.  
"Richie! That doesn't even make any sense!" Mike shouted.

Eddie simply pouted and rubbed once more at his aching head.

-&-

About an hour later, they were all standing in the parking lot.

"It's your turn to drive, Richie!"

"No, Eddie, they said it's _our_ turn to drive!"

"And you can go first because my head still fucking hurts from hitting the nightstand!"

"It's not _my_ fault you hit your head."

"_Really_?" Eddie all but growled. "How was that not your fucking fault, Richie!?"

The rest of their group stood watching with a building sense of trepidation. Admittedly, this was a typical experience with Eddie and Richie; they were always arguing--it was inevitable.

However, the four of them could only imagine how the next 12 hours of driving would go.

"Hey," Mike said, stepping forward to capture Richie and Eddie's attention. The two of them had been facing each other with Richie looking like he was about to keel over in laughter and Eddie looking like he was about to kill Richie. "I have an idea...Rock, paper, scissors."

It was a pacifying gesture that Mike prayed would work.

Eddie rolled his eyes, and balled his hand into a fist.

One round, two round, and Richie won, shouting a triumphant_ 'ha!'_ while Eddie groaned out _'fuck you, Richie.'_

-&-

Their first real stop of the day was in Poughkeepsie, New York.

Everyone other than Eddie and Richie were already seeking refuge from their bickering only two hours into their drive, and Richie had demanded they pull off because he liked the name of the town.

"How can you like the name of a town, you fucking pinhead?" Eddie had mumbled, exiting the vehicle.

It was about 3:30 in the afternoon and they had all decided to have an early dinner so they could focus on driving for the next several hours. It had been a late start for their day, and Bill suggested they try to make it to West Virginia before stopping for the night.

"It's about a 7 hour drive from here to Morgantown, West Virginia. We could probably pull off there for the night," Beverly said as she glanced at her Google maps.

They still hadn't discussed where it was exactly they were driving to. At this point, they were just driving in whichever direction seemed right at the time.

"We'd get there about midnight," Ben figured. "Is that good with everyone else? Eddie, can you look up hotels after dinner while Richie drives?"

"_Oy_!" Richie pipped up. "Who said it's my turn to drive now! He only drove for two hours, I have to drive for seven?"

"It's because they're hoping that you'll be too focused on driving to talk," Eddie laughed and reach over to shove Richie as they walked toward the restaurant they had stopped at.

And it was ironic, really. Because Eddie's mouth could be just as bad as Richie's when the two of them were together.

Bill and the others followed them close behind. "_No, Richie,_" Bill moaned, exasperated. "We're not expecting you to drive seven hours. We'll throw you two in the back after a couple hours. Maybe you guys can take a fuckin' nap."

It was good natured and teasing, as always, and everyone was laughing. They all loved to give Eddie and Richie endless shit about their bickering.

As they entered the restaurant, they all watched as Eddie continued to shove Richie, which only resulted in Richie shoving him right back. They instigated each other on a daily basis; there was a demand for attention from each other that was tangible in the air between them. A need to close the space that existed there.

Everyone seemed to be aware of it. Except for the two of them, of course.

And, no, a casual conversation between the two would not suffice, thank you very much.

It was a sizzling, hot _need_ to be touching.

Despite how much Richie and Eddie (mostly Eddie) acted bothered by the other--it really couldn't be farther from the truth. In any given scenario, if given a choice, Richie would pick Eddie and Eddie would pick Richie. Every time. Ten of out ten.

Beverly simply rolled her eyes as they walked to their seats. Eddie and Richie were the first to the large 8 person table that the waiter had seated them at.

And, of course, they sat next to each other.

-&-

After having checked into their hotel for the night and getting situated, Richie stated he needed to take a scalding hot shower.

And, no, Eddie hadn't counted on having to use the restroom during that time, but did it really matter?

The door to the bathroom was cracked open slightly and there was a cloud of steam surfacing from within, a testament to how hot the shower really was. As Eddie pushed the door open further, he caught a glance from beyond the other side of the curtain.  
What he saw was a long, dark red abrasion going down the entire expanse of the other man's back.

The color of the wound was a stark contrast from the pale white skin of Richie's back. The abrasion was a deep, rich red and it looked so fucking angry, just barely scabbed over in few places, but open and sore in so many others.

It stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and all the way down to the small of Richie's back, and Eddie couldn't stifle the small gasp that escaped his lips. _When the fuck had that happened?_

It looked so painful, and Eddie wondered absently to himself how Richie could possibly stand to take a shower so hot with a wound that severe. A shiver ran down Eddie's spine just thinking about it, and his hand raised to his own wounded cheek.

Without a word, Eddie retreated back into their room.

He could use the restroom later, he decided.

-&-

"What the fuck happened to your back, Richie?" Eddie said as soon as Richie walked out of the bathroom. He was already dressed in a long-sleeve cotton shirt and a pair of pajama pants. His damp hair was dripping down the back of his neck and already saturating the collar of his shirt.

Richie simply raised one eyebrow in a silent question as he walked across the room. "Checkin' me out while I was in the shower, ey, Eds?" he teased and he flopped down onto his own bed.

Eddie tried not to grimace, not because of Richie's words, but because he was once again picturing the extensive abrasion that covered Richie's back. The other seemed unaffected, however. "Doesn't that hurt? Like, really fucking bad?"

And, suddenly, Eddie remembered just how much he had pushed and picked at Richie all day. He wondered to himself if, at any point, he had inadvertently hurt the other man or made contact with the wound. A pang of guilt lodged itself in his throat as though it was something palpable.

"Not as bad as that time that your mom accidentally bent my dick while we were fuc-"

"_Beep-fucking-beep, Richie!_" Eddie cried, not ever wanting to hear the end of that sentence. He visibly shuddered and scowled at Richie. "Seriously, what happened?"

Richie simply shrugged and leaned himself back against the headboard of his bed. "Honestly, I don't completely remember. That whole fuckin' experience is a blur because I was freaking the fuck out so bad. I think it was after you ran to help Bill, I leaned again the rock and slid down." Richie shrugged again, looking thoughtful. "Must've happened then. Hurts like a sonovabitch though."

Eddie just watched him, thoughtful for a moment. Richie looked peaceful, almost small, as he leaned back against the headboard of his bed. His hair was still dripping water onto the back of his shirt and now his pillow, as well. His cheeks were rosy from his hot shower, and there were still traces of bruises all over his face and neck from several nights prior. He had a cut on the corner of his lip that was slowly beginning to heal.

Suddenly, Eddie wanted to go over to Richie. To place his thumb gently over the the cut on Richie's lip and ask him if it still hurt. He wanted to lift Richie's shirt and gently trace the large abrasion on his back, careful to do no harm. He wanted to take away any pain that existed there and replace it only with soft, gentle touches.

Eddie looked down and furrowed his brow at the thought, conflicted on what exactly it meant.

Eddie knew he was attracted to men; was more than willing to accept it at this point after so many years of repression (he hadn't just defeated a killer fucking clown to continue living a lie).

But what he was beginning to question was every interaction and moment he shared with Richie, not just now, but every moment he could conceivably recall.

He knew that he and Richie had a unique relationship--always had. That was just the way it was. But for how long had he subconsciously wondered what Richie's lips tasted like? Because he was certainly wondering that right this minute, and he wasn't dumb enough to assume that this was the first time that the thought had crossed his mind.

Repression was a hellova drug.

For a moment, he combed through a handful of interactions he and Richie shared, all the way from their childhood to right this second. He thought about how he always instinctively reached out to Richie, the gesture usually masked as one of vexation. Even something as simple as Richie throwing an arm around Eddie's shoulder spoke greater volumes than Eddie would have ever cared to admit in his past.

However, now, everything had changed.

Because four days ago, Eddie had almost died. And Richie had saved him.

And, quite frankly, Eddie was sufficiently tired of living the lie that he had apparently been living for the last 27 years of his life.

Eddie pulled himself from his thoughts and glanced over at Richie once more. At some point during Eddie's thoughtful self-revelation, Richie had fallen asleep.

He was still sitting upright against the headboard of his bed, but his head was hung forward with his hair in his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were only slightly parted, quiet snores escaping every few breaths. He looked peaceful which was, admittedly, very out of place for one Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier.

Eddie took the opportunity to watch him for a moment, a small smile settling across his face. This man, he thought to himself, meant the whole fucking world to him. That was nothing new, Eddie was sure of that much. Realizing that his feelings may extend a bit deeper than he had ever imagined was something he could tackle at a later time. For now, they would sleep.

And no matter what, he knew he would _always_ have Richie.

With one last grin, Eddie grabbed one of the pillows beside him and chucked it at Richie's head.

The pillow bounced off Richie's head with enough force to immediately startle Richie awake and knock his glasses askew. His head shot up at once, his eyes looking frightened for a moment before settling on Eddie.

Eddie tucked himself down into his blankets and grinned as Richie pouted at him. "That's payback for pulling me off the bed this morning," he said, teasing, smiling.

And Richie simply smiled right back, big and bright, and eased his way down into his own blankets. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he clucked. "Fuck you, Kaspbrak."

Eddie switched the lamp off, casting their room in darkness. "Ey, you wish, Tozier."

The last thing Eddie saw before closing his eyes was Richie's shit-eating grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! I was hoping to have this story completed before posting... However, it's beginning to look like it's going to be much longer than I had anticipated.
> 
> It's my companion piece to 'Somewhere to Begin'. If you read this one first and have questions, most might be answered in the first piece, so check it out!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm hoping to post chapter two next week sometime.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Much love! ✌️


	2. i'm getting old, and i need something to rely on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It did not go unnoticed by Eddie how all of what seemed like tension melted entirely out of Richie's body. His form slackened next to him, and Richie eased into the embrace. A quiet sort of contentment seemed to settle over the both of them in that moment.
> 
> And, thus, their game truly began.

Surprisingly, the next morning they were on the road by 10 a.m.

If the past couple days were any indication of how the rest of their trip would go, it would surely take them three weeks easy to get to their destination.

And it would most certainly be Eddie and Richie's fault.

During dinner last night, the six of them had decided on traveling cross country; that Long Beach would be a nice stopping point. There was a location in Glendale, California where they could return the rental car, then they could hop on the Metra to Beverly Hills, catch a cab to Richie's place, and pick up his car. It was about a two hour drive from Richie's house to Long Beach, so Eddie had started looking at hotels to reserve for the week.

After a bit of research, they were able to determine that it would take probably a week to get to Long Beach, maybe a little longer if they decided to off-track (which was becoming increasingly more likely the more Richie talked).

It was 11:10 a.m., and they had just pulled off the interstate to fill their gas tank and grab a few drinks. 

And, despite being only an hour into their drive, Ben was already having to act as a buffer between Richie and Eddie. Which was proving to be quite difficult with the two of them in the back and him and Bev in the middle row.

His growing migraine was a testament to his thinning patience. He almost contemplated making Eddie switch places with Bev just to separate the two of them. They were like grade schoolers.

_Handsy, too_, Ben thought dully as he watched Eddie all but leap across the seat just to smack Richie upside the head.

"You're such a fuckhead, Richie!" Eddie, inexplicably, did not stop smacking Richie. And Richie simply covered his head with his arms to defend himself and laughed as though he had never witnessed anything so funny.

What had gotten Eddie so riled up in the first place was pitiful at best, yet another smart ass remark from Richie about his mother. Par for the course, really, but it was as though someone had lit a match under Eddie's ass. Eddie's reaction of assault had been almost immediate, and the gleeful look in Richie's eyes had suggested that he had gotten exactly what he had wanted.

It was almost as though Eddie was looking for an excuse to lean over and touch Richie. And it was almost as though Richie had intentionally handed it to him on a silver, shining platter. 

Really, it wouldn't shock Ben in the slightest.

He pressed two fingertips to his temple and turned in his seat to watch them for a moment.

He watched as Eddie yet again pushed at Richie. This time, however, Richie had turned away from Eddie, so Eddie's flat hand collided with Richie's upper shoulder. Richie's face was hidden from Eddie. Ben, however, could see the devilish gleam in Richie's eyes as he hissed and recoiled from the touch as though it had stung him.

The reaction was instantaneous. Eddie's eyes widened almost comically, and his hands flew to his mouth. He looked absolutely horrified.

Ben simply watched in confusion and mild amusement.

"Oh my God, Richie, are you-" Eddie stumbled over his words, reaching out to Richie, then thinking better of it before yanking his hands back to his mouth. "Did I-?"

Releasing himself from his hunched position, Richie turned to face Eddie and grinned at him, laughing a little under his breath. "So fuckin' easy, Eds."

At this, there was a new anger alight in Eddie's eyes, all traces of horror and what had appeared to be remorse now gone. 

"You motherfucker!" Eddie seethed.

Once again, he was smacking at Richie, pushing him, but his actions were halfhearted and, if anything, the touches appeared almost gentle.

Ben had no idea what was happening, and figured there was no sense in trying to understand them. He simply sighed and turned in his seat, attempting to tune out the angry growls from behind him.

-&-

They drove for ten straight hours.

They end up at a little bed and breakfast in Richmond Heights, a small suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. Prices in the St. Louis region were astronomical, and even the dive hotels right off the interstate were asking almost $150.00 per night. 

Eddie said he refused to pay almost two hundred dollars to get bed bugs, which Richie thought was unbelievably hysterical.

_"Where's your sense of adventure, Eds! A few cockroaches never hurt anyone!"_

The bed and breakfast they found was perfectly suited for their needs: three bedrooms at an affordable rate for two nights. They had planned on staying the weekend there, and taking a cab into the city for drinks Saturday night.

They pulled up to the little cottage, appropriately called Richmond Height's B&B, around midnight on Friday. Everyone in the car was sore and stiff--it had been close to four hours since their last pit stop in Indianapolis.

As Eddie crawled from his spot in the middle row of the Tahoe, he swore he could hear his bones and joints groan.

"Four hours without standing up was an awful idea," Ben cried as he held onto his hips and twisted his back. The vertebrae that ran up his spine offered a satisfying crack as he stretched.

"A wee lil stiff, ey, Haystack?" Richie piped in a poorly Irish accent.

Quite frankly, they were all a little tired--in general and of each other. As fond as the sentiment could possibly be, they were all driving each other a little crazy. Short drive for Richie and Eddie. Which was entirely why they got roomed together.

Richie and Eddie walked to their room that night in a comfortable silence. They had been at each other's throats all afternoon until the moment that Eddie had fallen into a deep, pitiful sleep on Richie's shoulder. He had been eerily quiet ever since he had woken from him impromptu nap.

The bed and breakfast was antiquated and cozy. It was owned by an elderly man and woman who, after a brief conversation, they learned had been married and offering their house to strangers for the last forty years. The elderly woman, Grace, explained that she couldn't have children and hated the thought of having an empty home. So, thus they opened their doors to the many travelers of the world, eager to meet new people and hear their stories.

Richie led the way down the short hall, and Eddie slumped slowly behind him, as though there was an invisible rope tied to his waist and pulling him backwards. Their room was the last one at the end of the hallway, and there was a small lamp perched carefully on a plant stand right next to the doorway. It offered a very warm glow to their surroundings which only served to make Eddie impossibly more tired.

As Richie opened the door to the single bedroom, his jaw fell only slightly before he caught himself. Inside the small room was simply one queen sized bed. Eddie inelegantly stumbled past him, knocking into Richie as he went, and fell onto the bed. His bag had been dropped carelessly in the doorway and he hadn't even managed to properly land himself on the mattress. His right leg and arm dangled from the bed and his face pressed deeply into the comforter beneath him. His eyes were closed, mouth hung open slightly. Richie watched.

"Guess we're sharing, ey, Eds?" Richie offered, and a timid chuckle escaped his lips.

Eddie hummed softly and offered no additional response.

At this, any uncertainty Richie had felt at the prospect of sharing a bed with Eddie melted slowly away, and in its place was a warmth so consuming Richie suddenly felt as though he was burning up.

And the uncertainty he had felt was not discomfort at the idea of sharing a bed, an intimate space, with his best friend, no. It was entirely the opposite.

Richie knew he was thoroughly and intensively in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And that very obvious sentiment had only been solidified by the near miss that had almost resulted in Eddie's death. Faced with the possibility of living a life without Eddie (_again_, his mind offered pathetically. _Again, because for so long you had forgotten him_.) had nearly crippled him.

He could still remember moment that he was dropped from where he had been suspended in the air; still feel the way his head had bounced off the rocks beneath him, knocking the breath right from him lungs. He could still see the shine in Eddie's eyes as he had leaned over him, the moment that Richie realized what was about to happen.

No, Richie was absolutely not uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with Eddie. Entirely the opposite; he was uncomfortable with the thought of accidentally being much too _obvious_ in his affections.

Eddie was married, and despite what he had said previously about seeking a separation, the implication was still there and it hung heavily over Richie's head. A not so gentle reminder. Eddie was not into men.

Richie brought a hand up to his face and slid it carefully down the growth of stubble that lived there. That initial uncertainty returned to him oh-so-slightly. A soft sigh escaped him and he gathered Eddie's abandoned suit case and carried it further into the room with his own.

For a few moments that Richie refused to acknowledge as elusion, he paced around the room; grabbed the remote, turned the television on, and set the volume as low as it would go. Turn it off shortly thereafter. He went to the restroom outside of their room, changed into pajamas. Tried to subdue his messy, curly hair. Checked his stubble in the mirror, and mildly entertained the idea of a quick shave. 

Suddenly, he couldn't ignore it for what it really was. Richie was avoiding going to bed, and he was so fucking tired that he could feel it weighing heavily in his bones.

He sighed again and returned to their bedroom.

Eddie was still lopsided on the bed with half of his limbs dangling in a way that would almost certainly restrict blood flow. Richie couldn't help but smile.

"Eds?" Richie said as he carefully approached the sleeping man. He reached his hand out and pressed it to Eddie's shoulder blade. "Buddy, you need to, like...move. That can't be comfortable."

Eddie simply grunted and rolled his face into the comforter.

At this, Richie laughed._ So fuckin' stubborn_.

Carefully, Richie rolled Eddie so that he was better positioned on the bed. Then he carefully pulled the blankets down, nudged Eddie and told him to lift his hips and legs. Eventually, and Richie's not entirely sure how, he managed to get Eddie beneath the blankets.

It was a lot for an already exhausted man.

Richie heaved a sigh of relief at the feat and crawled into his side of the bed.

Within a matter of moments, the stubborn, formerly unmoving body of Eddie Kaspbrak very pointedly rolled over beneath the covers and slung his arm across Richie's chest. He buried his face into Richie's shoulder and offered a small sign of contentment.

It took every ounce of strength Richie had to not release the startled moan that threatened to escape in that moment. His muscles were tense, uncertain once more and afraid to move.

He chanced a careful glance down at the sleeping body currently molded to his side. Eddie had an almost soft look on his face, which was invariably different from the normal expression of scorn and irritation he almost always had set in place when him and Richie were interacting. Richie knew it was all for show, a part of their game, but _this_, oh this was something else entirely.

Eddie's defenses were down, he was vulnerable in every way; Richie was suddenly struck with a vivid memory of when they were children and Eddie had a panic attack down by the Barrens. He had accidentally left his inhaler at home, and he had nothing in that moment to calm his ever fraying nerves. Except Richie. Richie had been there, and had talked him down from his panic.

That was almost the same look of vulnerability as he had right now, except different still. That had been a moment of immense distress--this was a moment of immense peace, and Eddie looked so fucking soft Richie wanted to reach out and touch him.

He sighed and forced his muscles to relax.

These were not demons he wanted to face, currently; he had faced enough in the last week, he was sure of it, and this was _too much._

So Richie closed his eyes and willed himself into a restless sleep.

-&-

Eddie awoke to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm body pressed securely against his. He blinked; the room was dark and it took him several moments to gather his bearings to know exactly where he was.

While he glanced around the dark room, he was careful not to wake the sleeping body next to him. He only vaguely remembered arriving at the Bed & Breakfast; in his mind, there were mere bits and pieces of walking into the room he suspected he was in now. Paying no mind whatsoever to the lacking accommodations for two grown men, Eddie had only hazy memories of falling onto to the single queen sized bed in the room and succumbing to sleep.

Now, however, as he glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table next to him, he was acutely aware that _yes_, he was laying in a rather small bed next to one Richie Tozier. And, yes, he was pressed firmly into the side of the other man. And while he was at it, he was also abruptly aware that his arm was thrown carelessly across Richie's chest.

Eddie swallowed hard, and stared at the flashing red digits on the digital clock. It was 3:47 in the morning.

It took him several moments to fully orient himself to his surroundings. Eddie was not only pressed hard into Richie's side with his arm slung across his chest, but he also had his head tucked carefully into Richie's neck. If he so desired, in that moment, Eddie could taste Richie's pulse point. The thought sent a shudder down Eddie's spine, settling as a warm tingle at the very tip of his toes. 

It was an enticing thought, and Eddie licked his lips as his eyes focused on the soft beating flesh of Richie's neck. As he stared, he considered for a brief moment whether or not it was perverse for him to be having these thoughts while Richie slept peacefully next to him.

However, to paint Richie Tozier as any shade of innocence would be absolutely absurd--paradoxical, at best. 

Richie was nothing if not vulgar, offensive, and evocative.

There was very little that Eddie could ever do to really jar Richie. When they were younger, he remembered now, it had become a game between the two of them. _'Who could get under the other's skin the most?'_

Looking back, it was like a rampant game of chicken with little to no boundaries whatsoever.

Eddie grinned devilishly and remembered earlier in the day when Richie had pretended that Eddie had hurt him with the pushing and shoving. It had sent a terror so cold through Eddie's veins that, at the time, he had felt almost frozen in place. The idea that he had actually caused _harm_ to Richie was stifling--there was no other way to describe it.

But, turns out, the devious fucker had just been messing with him.

And Eddie suspected that now was as good of a time as any to pay the favor back.

With so little thought to his actions and what it actually could insinuate, Eddie licked his lips once more and latched them onto the milky smooth skin of Richie's neck.

It only took a moment. Eddie pressed his lips more firmly to Richie's pulse point and allowed his tongue to carefully graze the pliant skin there. He could feel the beat of Richie's heart beneath his teeth, ever so gently there, and the feeling caused a primal sort of growl to build deep in his stomach. 

Within that moment, Richie was awake. And stricken. He swallowed hard, and Eddie could feel the way his throat moved and constricted. If anything, it made the growl that was building deep inside him strengthen and threaten to escape. Suddenly, Eddie was absolutely _drunk_ on the feeling of Richie beneath his lips, vulnerable and unsuspecting. Once more, his tongue escaped to taste the skin of Richie's neck.

Richie was perfectly still. "Eddie?" he questioned after another moment of Eddie's gentle sucking. His voice was impossibly strangled as though there was a tight noose around his neck rather than Eddie's soft and oh-so-gentle lips. Eddie grinned against the skin there; this was exactly the reaction he had wanted. "Eddie," Richie repeated once more, and Eddie couldn't ever remember hearing Richie sound so diminutive and uncertain. "What are you doing?"

After another small moment of gently sucking at Richie's neck, and Eddie pulled away, far enough to look at Richie. He shrugged. "Fucking with you."

Richie looked absolutely dumbfounded. He released a stifled sort of choke, a noise Eddie wasn't sure he had ever heard come from the other man. "You," Richie started, still sounding as though he was just barely able to get the words out. "You're fucking with me...by...assaulting my neck..." He was breathing rapidly now, and Eddie was trying so fucking hard not to laugh. "With your _tongue_?"

I mean. 

I guess when it was spoken back to him, in quite so many words, it did sound a little _provocative_.

Eddie shrugged again. "Looks like it worked," he said, and laughed.

Richie simply stared at him and released another sort of choked gasp. "Eddie!"

Feeling sheepish, suddenly, Eddie ducked his head and somehow thought it was an okay idea to situate himself on Richie shoulder once more. At least now Richie wasn't watching him with that overwhelming sense of amazement. Eddie carefully nuzzled his face into Richie's neck yet again, the spot that he had woken up in and the same spot he had just been sucking on. Mentioning that there was the slightest of bruises there probably wasn't the greatest idea right now, but Eddie smiled no less. He thought no deeper into why the though of _his_ hickey being on Richie's neck thrilled him so much.

"Eddie," Richie said again, this time more carefully. "People don't _do that_."

Eddie felt emboldened now that Richie's eyes weren't boring into his own. "Do what?" he questioned innocently.

Richie offered another strangled noise that Eddie couldn't quite decipher. "How would you like it if I started licking up the side of your neck!" he whisper-shouted as though he had no idea what else to say.

Eddie lifted himself to look at Richie again, quirking one eyebrow. "Buddy, you do shit I don't like all the time."

It was silent for several long moments, Richie simply staring at Eddie as though he was looking for all of the answers in his brown, puppy-dog eyes. Eddie looked back innocently, as though challenging Richie. However, if you had asked Eddie in that moment, he would have told you he had no idea what kind of challenge he was offering to Richie.

Richie swallowed hard before answering quietly. "What if I did like it?"

It meant something more, but Eddie refused to acknowledge it; he knew they were treading thin ice, that something was gonna give at some point, but for now, he was perfectly fine to ignore the implication of not only his action but Richie's response to said action. A noise escaped his lips that sounded like a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle. He nuzzled his way back into Richie's side and secured his face into Richie's neck for the third time that night. His arm was still haphazardly draped over Richie's chest, and Richie's arm was carefully draped over his shoulders. It was certainly an intimate position, there was no denying that much.

"Then what are you bitching about?" Eddie offered as an answer and nuzzled his face deeper into Richie's neck.

It did not go unnoticed by Eddie how all of what seemed like tension melted entirely out of Richie's body. His form slackened next to him, and Richie eased into the embrace. A quiet sort of contentment seemed to settle over the both of them in that moment.

And, thus, their game truly began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the first one; it felt right to end it here, though. Hoping next update will come sooner than this one did. Hoping this story doesn't end up astronomically long. It seems to keep growing somehow. Hope you guys enjoyed.
> 
> Let me know. ✌️


	3. so tell me when you're going to let me in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had no control over it any longer; the need, want, hunger deep inside him drove him forward and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was a simple man with everything he ever wanted right at his fingertips. He was powerless to stop it.

The next night at drinks was the next time Eddie's antics had been acknowledged by either one of them.

When they had woken up the next morning, they had both been sprawled over the whole bed. In fact, Eddie's hand had somehow landed on Richie's face in the night and Richie had woken up startled and under the assumption that, at some point in the night, he had gone blind.

However, now, each of them six or so drinks deep, it was so easy to acknowledge the previous night's events.

Eddie and Richie were currently seated at the bar by themselves. Bev had excused herself to the restroom; Ben was attempting to chase down the bartender to order Bev another drink before she returned, and Mike and Bill were carefully huddled around the TouchTunes machine that was currently spitting out music from the 80's.

Eddie squinted his eyes and leaned into Richie's space. Being smaller, he was likely more inebriated than Richie was, but truthfully, that wasn't saying much, because Richie's head was spinning. "You have a small bruise on your neck," Eddie said, pointing and grinning.

Richie turned to grin back at him. "Gee," he started. "Wonder what that's from, huh?"

"Bev's been looking at you all day," Eddie slurred his words only slightly. "Suspiciously, like."

"Who's fault is that, Eduardo?" Richie raised his whiskey sour to his lips and downed the rest of it before shoving the glass to the bar's edge. 

The previous night had sent a cataclysmic shock wave all the way through to Richie's core. He had woken from his restless state of unconscious to the feeling of something warm pressing ever so carefully against his neck, a gentle caress, a warm tongue tasting the skin there.

And, for just a single moment, Richie had been as fixed in place as he had been when he was suspended in the deadlights.

In that moment, awareness crept to him like a monster in the night. _Eddie_. 

The arm wrapped around his torso. The hand pressed firmly against his abdomen, nails digging. The soft tickle of an unruly curl against his jaw. The pressure of warm, _warm_ lips against his neck, moving delicately as though calligraphy across a blank sheet of paper. The silken tongue escaping from those lips and traveling across his own neck as though it belonged there.

_Eddie_.

It was all Eddie.

And it was in that very moment that Richie's brain short circuited.

It took every ounce of strength that he had to muster the words that he had spoken. He summoned up any remaining composure still had buried deep inside of him, and shoved the words out as though they were rejected from his body.

The rasp in his voice was almost painful; or, maybe, it was the way that suddenly every muscle inside him had gone so rigid that it felt like a full body cramp.  
After, Richie had not gone back to sleep for a long time.

He had laid awake for hours, Eddie still securely pressed against his side--this time by choice, not just by his sleep-induced tossing and turning. His tense muscles eased slowly through those hours, and he listened carefully as Eddie's breathing evened pace.

Even his thoughts seemed to be choked up by what had happened.

Try as he might, he shoved and suppressed and tried so desperately to not let something as toxic as hope build somewhere deep inside of him.

Eddie had said it himself, he was messing with Richie.

If Richie fucked around and, for even one second, let himself think that _maybe_ Eddie could possibly feel something even remotely close to what Richie felt for him, well...his heart would be well and truly broken when it all turned out to be farce.

Not that he thought Eddie would ever intentionally play with his feelings. No, he knew Eddie cared for him as deeply as one friend could possibly care for another. Eddie would never willfully hurt him. That much was evident from Eddie's shear look of panic when he had thought he had hurt Richie earlier that day.

But Eddie couldn't _possibly_ now just how much, and in what way, that Richie cared for him. If Richie allowed himself to get invested--to _hope_\--it would come crashing down around him the moment Eddie laughed it off as a joke, unknowing of the damage it would cause.

And in that utterly terrifying scenario, Richie would have to quietly compose himself and not let any of the pain escape. Never would he lay himself out to be rejected by the one person who meant more than the world to him. He had survived a demon clown trying valiantly to kill him, but Richie isn't confident he could survive that _type_ of pain. 

No, if that happened, it would be a devastation known only to Richie.

It was mind-boggling to Richie: that he could suddenly harbor these feelings of such intensity for a person he had entirely forgotten about for 27 years. However, the more he assessed himself and all that he had remembered, Richie realized that he had been walking around as a shell of a person for the last two and a half decades.

These feelings and memories inside of him had always been there, but they had been buried so deep it was as though they were missing. It had left him feeling empty and lost, a ghost of something that used to be just beyond reach of his fingertips.

The moment he answered that phone call from Mike, it was as though the floodgates had opened and he was suddenly filled to the brim with warmth and happiness and _feeling_.

And, _God_, did he feel now. Every passing minute he spent with Eddie he realized more and more what love felt like.

Richie shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was drunk now, and this was not the time to be having these thoughts. He glanced to Eddie who was now scrolling on his phone, paying no attention to his surroundings. He had a scowl on his face.

He swallowed hard, grabbed his empty glass and raised it to catch the bartender's attention. Just from a quick glace, Richie caught that Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly were now all seated at a booth right next to the modern day jukebox.  
"What can I get ya?" the bartender questioned as he approached.

"Another whiskey sour. Make it a double this time," Richie croaked. His voice was raw. His thoughts spun through his head like rampant demons. Maybe drinks was a bad idea; somehow that didn't stop him from ordering another.

Richie had slipped up when he had insinuated that he had liked what Eddie had been doing the night before. It was dangerous, and after Eddie had fallen back to sleep, Richie worked hard to snuff out even the faintest flame of hope that had surfaced.

_Bad, bad, bad_. This was all just like treading on a very thin sheet of ice.

He coughed and once more tried to will the thoughts from his head. He couldn't handle this right now.

"Whatcha doin' there, Eds?" he said, turning his head to stare at the other.

Eddie was still scowling and he looked about as fierce a flustered, angry kitten that would lash out one minute and then purr and rub against your palm in the next.

Jesus Christ, Richie loved him so much.

"Fuckin'..." he started to say and then abruptly tossed his phone onto the bar counter with a heavy sigh. He waved his hand to draw the bartender's attention. "Hey, uh, can I get a shot of patron with a lime?"

It was obvious that whatever Eddie had been doing on his phone had set him on edge. Richie waited patiently for him to continue his previous thought and tried not to watch the way Eddie's throat worked as he took his shot.

"It's fucking Myra," Eddie said finally, and he sounded so tired. "I literally just wish I could end it now, get it fucking over with, but I'm not so much of an asshole that I'd do it over the phone."

Richie thought for a moment. He really hated seeing Eddie stressed out.

"Well," Richie started, hoping that he wasn't overstepping by not consulting with the other's first. "Aren't we like a four hour drive from Chicago? I mean, it'd be a small backtrack, but we could head up there...let you resolve your business before heading to Cali."

Eddie dropped his head into his hand and watched Richie. "I couldn't ask you guys to do that."

"I mean," Richie started with a chuckle. "They had kind of been expecting me to slow us down with detours, so we got a little extra time. Not stopping at the World's Largest Killer Bee would be worth it for you to get your shit in order."

At that, Eddie grinned wide, all traces of annoyance retreating from his features. "Gee, Richie, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." That slight slur that had been present before had returned, probably with a little help from the patron, and Richie smiled. The warmth of alcohol settled over him as well, and he sipped his double whiskey sour, chasing the sensation--wanting the thoughts from earlier to leave his head.

Eddie chuckled beside him. "Y'know, that bruise _is_ really dark...and, call a spade a spade, you can definitely tell what it is." 

With what looked like no thought whatsoever, Eddie raised his hand and used his pointer finger to gently trace the bruise at Richie's pulse point.

Richie swallowed hard, feeling like there was a lump in his throat and cut his glance over to Eddie. He tried so damned hard to sound light-hearted when he spoke. "Well, maybe you shouldn't go around sucking on the necks of the innocent."

At that, Eddie barked out a sharp laugh. His eyes were bright suddenly, as though there was a fire in them, a gleam of something that made Richie nervous.

Never had Richie thought he would feel like prey to Eddie, but oh _fuck_, he did right now.

"You are anything _but_ innocent, Tozier."

Richie dipped his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm the epitome of-"

Eddie leaned toward him sharply, invading his personal space and efficiently cutting him off from his words. "Ah, ah, ah," Eddie tutted. "Not fooling me. You told me you liked it."

That fire in Eddie's eyes grew, and Richie couldn't take his eyes away his lips. Somehow, and just like a predator, Eddie had caught Richie's moment of weakness the night before and latched onto it. Richie swallowed hard, something hot sizzling inside him. The air between them, and there wasn't much, was suddenly thick and heady.

Warning alarms were going off in Richie's head. Abort. Back off. Bad, bad, _bad_.

He latched onto that suddenly moment of clarity and leaned away from Eddie. "Uh," he coughed again, clearing his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna head to the restroom real quick." 

With that, Richie quickly stood from his spot at the bar and tried not to flinch at the way the bar stool scratched against the floor. He was high-strung and hyper-aware suddenly. The blood in his veins burned hot.  
Richie didn't dear glance at Eddie as he hastily turned and walked toward the restroom.

He had been treading on thin ice before but now, oh _now_, it was starting to crack beneath his feet.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Richie was at the sink with the water turned on cold. He needed to cool down, his face was on _fire_.

Taking deep breaths as he went, Richie splashed the cold water on his face and tried to focus solely on that rather than how tight his jeans had become.

His face was in his hands, dripping cold water into the sink, when Richie heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He didn't dare look up, and his heart skipped in his chest when he heard the sound of the door's lock clicking into place.

Finally, Richie swallowed hard and let his hands fall from his face. He raised his head and tried to summon ever ounce of strength he possibly had as he turned around. He didn't need to look to know who it was; he could feel that sizzling energy from out in the bar now filling the small room around him.

As he turned, he backed himself up as far as he could until his thighs were pressed against the sink counter. Something like fear, but not quite fear, was working its way though the vessels in his heart. He felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth.

"What's the matter, Richie?" Eddie said, and he smirked a predatory smirk. However, Eddie's eyes held a warmth and seriousness that seemed to negate that. They were inviting and comforting and they looked like home and Richie wanted so fucking badly to fall right into them.

His heart and his fucking soul.

In that moment, Richie could see the undercurrent to everything Eddie did and said. The tenderness that existed behind the challenge. 

And, God, if there was anything that could break Richie's resolve, it was that _right there_.

He felt weak in the knees seeing it, and leaned his hands back against the sink counter to brace himself.

The look in Eddie's eyes was stifling. So many emotions of every different color existed there. There was playfulness and laughter, there was concern and careful regard, there was the promise of comfort, and _God_, there was this hunger so blatant that Richie could feel heat pool in his stomach.

Without waiting for a reply, Eddie walked toward Richie until he was yet again invading his space. Richie tried to swallow, but even that simple action was just too much for his short-circuited brain.

"Well?" Eddie incited, but his voice was softer now. 

Richie mumbled unintelligibly, and that's all he could offer. He was surprised he could give even that much.

Eddie raised his hand and pressed it against Richie's chest. "Your heart's beating really fast, Rich," Eddie said, and the concern that coated his every word almost made Richie cry. Then Eddie carefully slid his hand up to Richie's neck, cupping it in the back. "Well, I liked it, too."

And Richie had no idea what Eddie was talking about but he couldn't seem to say as much.

"I liked biting and sucking and kissing at your neck," Eddie clarified, presumably seeing the confusion over Richie's face. "I like seeing that mark on you and knowing that I put it there."

A shot of blinding hot electricity shot down Richie's spine at that and right into his dick. He was locked in place, though, and no words could escape him, just a strangled sort of moan. The alarm bells in his mind were blaring at this point, but he just needed them to shut up because he couldn't _think_.

"C'mon, Richie," Eddie whined, and again Richie felt it in his dick. It was probably the hottest sound he had ever heard, and it was his name from the lips of the person he wanted the most. If his brain hadn't already short-circuited it would have at that. It was shooting sparks, at this point.

Richie found his voice then, as strangled as it may have been. "What do you want from me, Eds?"

Eddie brought his other hand to Richie's chest and watched him from beneath his eyelashes. The look in his eyes answered that question one hundred times over.

Richie was grasping as every last bit of willpower he had left. That small voice in his head was screaming at him to pull away. 

_Tell him no, tell him. He'll drop it and let it be, you know he will. He won't ever mention it again if you tell him you don't want to. If not, you're going to fall face first. Crash and burn, Trashmouth._

And Richie knew it was the truth. If he gave any sort of indication that this was not something he wanted, Eddie would back off in a heartbeat, probably all the while fretting about misreading things. Eddie was always, _always_, looking out for Richie. And if, for even a moment, he thought he overstepped, he would be immediately contrite. 

Eddie was still glancing at him from beneath his eyelashes, watching him as though searching for all the answers to life's questions. For just a moment, Eddie looked sheepish and uncertain, and any remaining resolve Richie had crumbled at his very feet.

They both had a lot of drinks, and surely Eddie could feel the steady thrum of alcohol moving through his veins the same way Richie could.

If nothing else, he could always blame the alcohol.

He had no control over it any longer; the need, want, _hunger_ deep inside him drove him forward and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was a simple man with everything he ever wanted right at his fingertips. He was powerless to stop it.

Richie lunged forward and caught Eddie's lip in a rough, bruising kiss. 

Eddie's response to push forward simply deepened the kiss and made it all the more forceful, teeth colliding and biting lips. Richie was sure the cut on his lip was bleeding, but he didn't, _couldn't_, care because suddenly, everything around him was _Eddie, Eddie, Eddie_.

His hands were buried in Eddie's hair, holding him in place as they continued to fight with each other, tongues sliding together. Eddie's hand still carefully cupped the back of Richie's neck, pulling him down and closer, as though it just wasn't enough.

Heat burned hot through Richie's entire body, and he couldn't get enough of it. Eddie tasted like tequila and lime and something a little sweeter than that, and Richie was more drunk from that than any of the alcohol he'd had that night.

The entire room was vibrating and the way that Eddie kissed him back made Richie weak in the knees yet again. Just from kissing alone, just from the shear energy in the room, Richie's dick was so hard it was fucking _painful_. He needed more, couldn't get enough, ran his tongue along Eddie's and wanted so badly to taste every inch of him.

Suddenly, and entirely too soon, Richie pulled away gasping for air, trying so hard to breath in as much as he could so he could go back in for more. But Eddie had moved down the side of his neck and was biting at the bruise he had left the previous night. He sucked right at the juncture of Richie's shoulder and neck, and Richie had to stifle a moan because it was easily one of the most erotic things he had ever experienced.

"Oh, _fuck_," he growled instead when Eddie's teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh, and God, he'd give Eddie the whole fucking world, moon, stars, everything if he wanted it.

Richie grasped onto Eddie's jaw on the opposite side of his wounded cheek, and roughly pulled him back up to his lips.

_More, more, more_. Richie crashed his lips against Eddie's once again, and immediately they were in sync with one another, moving at a hurried and desperate pace. Richie was vaguely aware of Eddie's tight grasp on the front of his shirt. It was balled into a fist, pulling him impossibly closer.

They couldn't get close enough, needed more, so much more, and one of Richie's hands dropped to the hem of Eddie's shirt. His hand danced beneath the fabric for a moment, savoring the anticipation before pressing it firmly against Eddie's bare hip.

It was electric. 

Eddie's skin was on fire, and Richie moaned into the kiss. Richie guided Eddie's hips towards his until they were flush together. His finger traced lazy circles against the small of Eddie's back and he hummed in contentment at the new pressure in all the right places from having Eddie so close.

Suddenly, whatever hypnotic spell had fallen over them shattered to the ground as someone pounded at the bathroom door. They sprang apart immediately, flushed and flustered and breathing as though they had just finished a marathon.

"Fuck," Richie said, eloquently. And then louder, "_fuck_."

His hands flew to his hair, and his gaze shot up to meet Eddie's. 

Fear coiled deep in his stomach now, cold and replacing the warmth that had just been there. This was not good. This was _bad_, his brain supplied uselessly.

Eddie suddenly looked protective and pacifying all at once. "It's fine, it's okay," he hushed, and the soothing tone of his voice almost made Richie's fear falter. "There's two stalls, I'll go in one and wait a few minutes before coming out. You go now."

And Richie almost started laughing right then and there.

Because Eddie thought Richie was freaking out because he didn't want to get caught.

_Fuck_ getting caught. Richie had just allowed every last bit of his resolve to crumble and he had given in to the one thing he wanted more than anything. His heart had soared at the feeling of Eddie's tongue moving against his, the way Eddie had melted into his touch. And now he would _crave_ it, and it wasn't his to crave.

There was no more wondering what Eddie tasted like, because _now_ he knew. And that information would single-handedly destroy him from the inside out.

Whatever this was, a game, drunken antics, it was not meant to be serious, that much Richie felt certain of.

His head was spinning and not from the alcohol. He felt painfully sober, and his hands tugged at his hair in quiet desperation. _Why, why, why did you _do _that?_

Richie knew his eyes were blown wide with fear, and Eddie watched him like he was watching a rabid dog. "_Richie_," he hissed softly so not to be heard by the person on the other side of the door. "Buddy, we've gotta do something, okay? Go out there and wait for me."

With that, Eddie hid in one of the two available bathroom stalls.

And Richie?

Well, Richie flew out of the bathroom door and right through the bar's front door in one swift movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely had to stop it here, because this was unexpected and I'm thrilled with how it turned out. This story keeps taking twists and turns that I don't expect; I feel like it's trying to tell itself through me, ha.
> 
> Again a little shorter than the first one, but the ending to this just seemed right.
> 
> Also, if you're wondering 'The World's Largest Killer Bee" is a real thing. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed. Let me know what you think!


	4. i'm getting tired, and i need somewhere to begin

Richie Tozier hadn't had a cigarette in approximately 18 months.

He had smoked since the age of thirteen, around the time when him and Beverly met. They used to sneak down to the Barrens and share a cigarettes that she had likely nabbed from the corner drug store.

Since then, he had brief bouts of time where he didn't smoke. However, he never fully quit until 18 months ago. He hadn't touched one since then.

Be that as it may, the first place Richie found himself after leaving the bar was a small little gas station just down the block with a package of cigarettes in his hand.

He stepped out of the gas station, leaned against the brick siding of the building, and lit his first cigarette. After sucking that down to nothing, he lit another one. And another one. And then one more right after that.

By the end of his chain smoking, his lungs ached in a way that only binge smoking cigarettes could cause. However, Richie didn't mind. It distracted him from the ache of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

His phone seemed to chirp endlessly in his jacket pocket. Richie very pointedly ignored the sound and focused on the cigarettes as though they were his lifeline. Avoidance had always been his strong suit.

He had left the bar around 12:30. It was now 2:46 in the morning. After two hours of leaning against the brick building with no real intention of moving, Richie pulled his phone from his jacket, pointedly did not look at his messages, and dialed a 24 hour cab service.

As he waited for the cab, he smoked two more cigarettes.

When the cab dropped him off at the bed and breakfast they were staying at, Richie had one more. At that point, he nodded resolutely to himself, walked toward the front door, lost his resolve, then promptly turned around and lit another cigarette.

He sighed to himself, and prayed to any higher power there was that his friends would be long past sleeping at this point.

Pulling his phone from his pocket once more, Richie resigned himself to reading the messages left for him.

There were three missed calls, two from Eddie, one from Bill.

One pending voicemail; he decided he could listen to that a little later.

12 unread text messages.

_12:42 a.m. Eds: where'd you go_

_12:54 a.m. Eds: hey, dickhead, come back, that guy didn't even know. no big deal._

_12:56 a.m. Mikey: hey where r u at? we're gonna go to a different bar_

_01:06 a.m. Eds: motherfucker, are you freaking out? just come back_

_01:15 a.m. Bill: Richie, man where are you lol everyone thinks you bailed on us._

_01:36 a.m. Bev: eddies really worried about you, you should call us back._

_01:52 a.m. Eds: richie_

_02:13 a.m. Bev: are you okay??? what happened_

_02:15 a.m. Bill: so we just got back to the b&b and your not here so now we're all worried, fucking call us, dude._

_02:26 a.m. Eds: motherfucking fuck, richie why won't you answer me_

_02:28 a.m. Eds: that's fucked up, you could be in a fucking ditch somewhere, just tell me you're safe._

And then the last text message, which came through to his phone 4 minutes ago.

_02:42 a.m. Eds: c'mon, Richie...please_.

Reading that last one, Richie felt his breath catch in his lungs and a lump form in his throat. He vividly remembered Eddie saying those words in the bathroom right before they kissed. _C'mon, Richie_. He didn't understand how it was possible but those words simultaneously caused his heart to break and his dick to twitch.

Running a hand down the side of his face, Richie withdrew his ninth cigarette of the night. Obviously Eddie was still awake. And, obviously, he would be in their room when Richie returned. Honestly, Richie didn't know if he could deal with that, but it seemed like he didn't have a choice.

Sure, he could pay $200 dollars for a hotel room down the street to sleep in for a couple hours, but wouldn't he just have to see him tomorrow, anyways? Richie was trapped in St. Louis with him, doomed to spend the next week and a half trapped in a car together.

He supposed he could flag down another cabbie, catch a ride to the airport and fly to his quiet, empty home in Beverly Hills, but that definitely didn't seem right.

God, he wanted to avoid this whole situation but he wouldn't leave his friends and he wouldn't leave Eddie. He cared about them all so much.

With a deep, heavy sign surfacing from the depths of his chest, Richie stubbed out his cigarette and walked into the bed and breakfast.

He walked at the pace of a marginally incapacitated snail, and it was almost three in the morning by the time Richie finally cracked open the door to the bedroom. There was still some mild hope that the room would be dark and Eddie would be in bed sleeping soundly.

However, as Richie slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside, he was disappointed yet unsurprised to find the lights very much so on. Eddie pounced from where he was sat in an armchair and was directly in front of him within less than a second.

"Fucking-!" Eddie growled, as though deficient of coherent thought. He looked so angry.

Without clarifying his eloquence, Eddie grasped onto Richie's jacket lapel before he was even in the door and yanked him the rest of the way in. Then he slammed the door shut and turned to face him in one swift move.

And, _oh_, if looks could kills. 

"Not very courteous to slam doors, Eds, I bet there's people trying to sleep here," Richie tried, sheepishly.

"Where the fuck were you?" Eddie seethed. His cheeks were so, so red.

Resigning himself to the conversation, Richie turned and sat himself on the edge of the bed, watching Eddie. "Oh, y'know, just...ran to the gas station and grabbed some cigarettes...I think my phone must have died, and I lost track of time..."

"Your phone didn't die! It rang like twelve times before going to voicemail!"

"Oh," Richie said, dumbly. "Huh, must be on silent, I guess."

"Don't play fucking stupid, Richie, it doesn't look good on you." Eddie spoke a little softer now, but the anger in his eyes was still burning rampant.

For lack of anything clever to say, Richie simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Didn't you quit smoking like a year ago? What the fuck?"

Again, Richie shrugged his shoulder and cast Eddie a sidelong look. "I guess the alcohol made me crave them."

Finally, the tension in Eddie's shoulders seemed to drain from him entirely. His eyes took a softer look, less infuriated and more concerned. He watched Richie for a moment, and not for the first time, Richie wished he could read the other man's thoughts and know what he was thinking.

"I was really worried about you, man," Eddie said, finally, soft like his eyes. "Not cool."

Richie raised a hand and ran it though his messy hair. "Sorry, sorry. I know, I should have called back or at least texted you guys."

"Oh, so you did see the calls? Fucker." Eddie replied, but there was a mild hint of a grin at the corner of his lips to let Richie know he was mostly playing. "Why'd you ditch? I told you everything was fine."

Staring at him, Richie tried to read the situation. Tried so desperately to figure out where Eddie's head was, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He was being so casual about the fact that they had just made out in the bathroom of some bar, as though there was nothing to it, and Richie's whole head was spinning in circles.

What exactly had that been in the first place?

A drunken impulse? A lapse in judgement? A curiosity?

Richie hadn't dared to hope for even a second that it meant to Eddie what it meant to him. That was a one-way ticket to a shit-show he definitely did not want to see. Avoidance was better than a bruised, aching heart.

Really, he had nothing he wanted to say. "I don't know what you want me to say, Eds."

"How about why you left us there? And wouldn't answer?"

Richie rubbed at his eyes; he was so tired but at the same time entirely wide awake. He didn't think he would be able to sleep right now if he actually tried. The anxiety inside him was buzzing him into an uncomfortable state of awareness. "I don't know, man," he started and wished desperately that he could shove all this baggage underneath the bed and leave it there to rot. "I needed out...I needed to think, I guess."

At this, Eddie quirked an eyebrow and frowned slightly. He made his way over to Richie on the bed and sat next to him. He studied him carefully for a moment. "What do you mean? What did you need to think about?"

He said the words as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened that night. As though they hadn't been a solid 3 minutes away from dry humping against a bathroom stall in a old, rundown bar. If Richie's head had been spinning before, it was in an entirely different orbit now.

Richie stared at him for a long minute. "Eddie, seriously?" he said, finally. "How are you so casual about this?" Richie bit back his anxiety, his instinct to avoid, and faced it head on. Feelings seeped through his bones, and shoved him forward. His heart was aching and it wanted so badly to have this conversation despite his brain screaming at him to retreat. "We just made out in a shitty fuckin' bathroom, and you think I was worried about the guy banging on the door?"

At this, Eddie looked impossibly more confused.

And Richie couldn't control himself anymore. "Why do you look so confused!" he whisper-shouted, trying to reign himself in. "How are you not freaking out right now!? You wanna know where I was? I was standing outside of a gas station for the last three hours chain-smoking cigarettes! Because I'm freaking out! That's what you do when you impulsively and unintentionally make out with your best friend in a bar!"

"I mean," Eddie started. "It seemed pretty intentional to me-"

"Eddie!"

"Okay, sorry!" he raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Sorry! Well, what are you freaking out about!"

Richie gave a choked sort of sound. "That we made out!"

"Well, why though!"

Richie could only stare at him.

When Eddie realized he wasn't going to get a response, he began talking again. "I mean...did you not like? 'Cause if that's it, I'm sorry, we don't have to do it again...It doesn't have to be weird or anything. But, like, you really seemed like you liked it, so I'm just confused."

Richie was absolutely awed. He watched him with wide eyes and shook his head slowly, boggled. "What do you want from me?"

At this, Eddie scowled. "I don't know! It's hard to answer that question when you're being so cryptic." Eddie stopped and watched Richie for several long moments, as though trying to read him. A sort of tenderness fell over his features and his eyes were warm. Suddenly, he appeared as though he was regarding a wild animal. Tentative, gentle, and approachable. "Alright, let's start with something simple. Did you like it?"

Richie couldn't verbally answer that question. However, and almost subconsciously, he was nodding his head.

"Okay, good," Eddie eased. "Do you want to do it again?"

Again, and so far beyond his own control, Richie was nodding his head.

At that, Eddie swung his leg over Richie's and straddled his legs.

Richie croaked out a noise that sounded like a hybrid between a moan and a gasp. Using every ounce of willpower in his body, Richie managed to find his voice. He also noticed that his hand, unbeknownst to him, had lifted to Eddie's thigh. "What do you want though? What is this?"

Eddie was hesitant suddenly, and he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he whispered. "I like kissing you."

Richie could feel the warmth from Eddie's legs pressing into the sides of his own. He moved his hand carefully from Eddie's thigh to the side of his face, the same side that had a knife sticking from it a week prior. It was with careful deliberation that Richie trailed his fingers over the gauze pad that covered the stitches beneath. Gentle and loving, but he wasn't sure if Eddie caught it as that. Wasn't sure if he wanted him to.

This...was precarious, Richie was certain of that.

Was Eddie acting impulsively, on a whim?

Because what Eddie did not know was that Richie's heart was at stake.

And there was no way that Richie could find the nerve to tell him that.

If this was nothing more than a passing thought for Eddie, it would absolutely destroy Richie. That was his own secret to take to the grave, he supposed.

He was only human. 

And right here in front of him was the only person he had ever loved, offering himself to him.

How could anyone say no to that? The strongest person on the planet would likely be on their knees, and Richie was nothing if not weak in the heart.

With that, he closed all distance between them and carefully pressed his lips to Eddie's for the second time that night.

Unlike in the bar, this kiss was slow and gentle. Careful and deliberate. This kiss was patient and easy. 

And they stayed that way for a long while. Richie had lost track of time, focusing solely on the saccharine taste of Eddie's lips, the way his tongue felt against his. He lost himself in the feeling, the all-consuming warmth, the tenderness in every action that felt so much like love but Richie dared not to see it as such.

Eventually, Eddie pulled back and watched him. The look in his eyes was inscrutable. He looked so fucking warm, and Richie wanted to bury his face into his neck and die there in this moment before everything could inevitably come crashing down.

"Stop fucking thinking so much," Eddie whispered and lifted his hand to Richie's cheek. He caressed the corner of Richie's lips as though trying to remove the frown there. "We need to go to sleep. It's five in the morning, and everyone wanted to be on the road by 11...but I guess that was before we were worried we weren't going to find you. Seriously, dude, you couldn't have texted?"

Richie could only offer a half-grimace, half-smile. "Sorry, sorry...I know," he said. "I was really freaking out, Eds, c'mon. I smoked like nine cigarettes on the way here and, you were right, I haven't smoked in well over a year. My chest hurts so bad right now. I don't understand how you're so _calm._"

Eddie removed himself from Richie's lap, threw off his black shirt and jeans, and crawled into bed wearing nothing but his boxers.

Well, that was certainly a new development from the night before. Richie gulped, and truly didn't know how to proceed.

Eddie interrupted his thoughts. "Well, fucking talk to me next time and you wouldn't have to worry about it. Could of saved yourself a lot of hassle, and we could have made out for longer, so?"

Unexpectedly, a sharp laugh surfaced from the depths of Richie's chest.

This, all of this, was so surreal, but Richie was...adjusting. Acclimating.

And maybe this all would be okay. Maybe something more would come from it. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible that Eddie could feel what Richie felt for him.

But no matter the outcome at this point, Richie was invested. He just prayed it wouldn't leave him in shambles when all said and done.

Following Eddie's lead, Richie slowly undressed down to his boxer briefs and crawled into bed beside Eddie.

Without even a moment of hesitation, Eddie rolled over and slotted himself against Richie's side; he draped his arm over Richie's abdomen and tucked his head snugly into the juncture of Richie's neck.

Releasing a soft, withheld breath of air, Richie allowed himself to sleep.

-&-

"Where the fuck were you last night, man! We were wondering if we were gonna have to leave you behind!" Bill teased, as Bev ran up and threw herself into his arms the second she saw him.

They were standing in the entryway to the bed and breakfast. Surprisingly, Eddie and Richie were the first two down there.

After pulling herself back from the hug, Bev slapped his shoulder. "Where were you, Richie! I was so worried about you!"

Then she turned to Eddie. "And you couldn't have texted me and told me he was back? I was up until 4 a.m.!"

Eddie, at least, had the decency to look properly chastised.

_Well, they had been up later_. But Richie supposed she didn't need to know any of that. He simply chuckled. "Sorry, babe."

"Yeah, where were you?" Mike questioned as him and Ben followed Bill down the flight of stairs.

"Oh, you know, I decided to fuck off to some strip club and lost track of time. You'll never guess who I saw in there! Eddie's mom-"

"Okay, fuck face, let's get in the car."

Eddie grasped onto Richie's bicep and pulled him out the front door of the B&B. They had already paid for their two nights, so Richie happily stumbled behind him as Eddie all but dragged him to their vehicle. Once he stopped being pulled, Richie extracted his pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one up.

Eddie simply quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Richie said, mildly. "You stress me out, I can't help it."

"Oh, don't you fucking even, Richie Tozier, not after the shit you pulled last night," Eddie returned, but his words were casual.

In the short length of time since their fight with Pennywise, Eddie had grown significantly more at ease. It was as though a burden had been removed from him; as though he realized that he had experienced the largest horror that life could possibly offer, and anything else he would face would be inconsequential comparatively.

He was a lot more self-assured. Less volatile, even. More adept to laughing at the little things. 

It made the love Richie had for him grow to insurmountable levels.

The Tahoe's doors were locked, so Eddie stood up wind from Richie as he smoked his cigarette and waited for the others to join them.

"Alright!" Bill started, leading the others to the car. "Who's driving first?"

"Well, Bev and I can swap out first. Where to next?" Ben offered.

Suddenly, Richie remembered his and Eddie's conversation from the previous night at the bar--the one before the whole bathroom fiasco. Given the circumstances and everything that had come forth since that conversation, Richie wanted even more for them to detour to Chicago so Eddie could end things with Myra.

As much as he had tried to snuff out any realm of hope resulting from the last twelve hours, it seemed inevitable. 

"Yeah, hey, about that," Richie started. "Eds and I were talking last night. Any chance of a quick trip up to Chicago?" 

"Why Chicago?" Ben questioned, but grabbed the keys from Bill and started to make his way to the driver's side door.

"Just wanted to take care of a couple things at home real fast before going to the west coast. Y'know...if that's alright with you guys," Eddie said, an uncertain inflection to his voice.

Bill offered Eddie a small, almost knowing, smile. It was gentle and warm, and Richie could have swore that Bill's eyes had cut over to his own for just a moment before going right back to Eddie. "Yeah, absolutely, man. That's what this trip is supposed to be for. A cleanse. A new beginning."

Richie coughed into his balled up fist. His lungs ached, and he supposed that last cigarette certainly hadn't helped matters. But, admittedly, he wasn't lying when he had said he was stressed. More things had happened in the past twenty four hours than he thought would ever happen in an entire lifetime, and the anxiety that it instilled in him was palpable.

He didn't know what Eddie wanted from him. And he couldn't control the hope blooming in the center of his chest that, just maybe, it meant something more. Maybe it was more than just a drunken mishap, maybe it was more than just a rampant curiosity. Richie sure fucking hoped so.

As they all packed themselves into the vehicle, Richie yet again found Eddie and himself in the very back seats of the Tahoe. He supposed that was fine. It was the only row with joined seats, and Richie reveled in the way Eddie seemed to take advantage of that fact. He was constantly handsy; either slapping at Richie, throwing his feet in his lap (despite Beverly's proclamation of how dangerous that was), falling asleep on his shoulder, or just blatantly sitting too close. Regardless, Richie was thrilled.

It did nothing to clear his head, however. It made that tiny flicker of hope in the pit of his stomach gain fervency and vitality. It was rapidly blossoming into this unavoidable thing that Richie couldn't conceivably control.

He had begun to picture what it would be like to have Eddie like this, always.

To share a bed every night, and fall asleep with a warm, muscular arm draped over his abdomen.

To wake up in the morning and give Eddie shit because of the mark he'd accidentally left on the other man's neck. Eddie would surely be feisty and fire off some biting comment which would inevitably make Richie laugh too hard.

To be able to reach out and pull Eddie close, taste him whenever he felt like it, nothing whatsoever holding him back.

To not worry about what it means, to know deep in his heart that the other man cared for him...felt for him what Richie never, ever thought he could.

The thoughts were dangerous, and Richie did everything in his power to dispel them entirely.

It proved to be abundantly difficult, however, as Richie settled into the seat and Eddie pushed up right next to him, and placed his hand very pointedly on Richie's leg.

-&- 

The drive to Chicago was an uneventful one.

Beverly took over driving about half way there when they stopped for gas. Mike and Bill chatted aimlessly in the middle row, with Ben joining in occasionally. They were talking about what they wanted to do in Long Beach and their plans for when they got back home.

Richie and Eddie, however, were oddly quiet.

With a quick glance in their direction about and hour into their drive, Beverly noticed that they had both fallen fast asleep.

Eddie's head was resting on Richie's shoulder, and his body was marginally turned toward the other man which left his face almost buried into Richie's neck. In turn, Richie had his head resting on top of Eddie's.

Bev smiled.

There was something going on there, and no one in the car seemed to be entirely sure of what it was. 

It had been obvious from that moment on Neibolt when Richie had broken down in the middle of the street, distraught and lost in terror. But somehow, it had kept growing from that point, festering into this tangible thing that seemed to fill the air around them.

They followed each other around incessantly and while they taunted and teased mercilessly, Bev could see it for what it really was: affection disguised as annoyance.

Last night, they all watched as Richie had bolted from the bar.

They figured he had just wanted to step out for a breath of fresh air. However, moments later Eddie had joined the table with a puzzled look on his face.

"Where'd Richie go?" he had asked, his eyes scanning the bar to see if he could find him anywhere. 

"Dunno, he went outside a few minutes ago. Probably just needed to step out for a minute," Mike offered offhandedly.

With that, Eddie had turned and walked out of the bar, as well. He had been gone only about five minutes before he was back inside with a concerned look on his face.

"He's not out there, guys. He didn't say anything before?"

"No," Bill said. "Who knows, he'll be back."

With that, Eddie had sat down beside Ben on the opposite side of Beverly. She watched him, and noticed the anxiety that seemed to build there like an ominous shadow. Minutes passed, and his frown fell further on his face. This obscured emotion seemed to roll off of him in waves, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. Bev watched as he glanced at his phone compulsively, as though hoping it held all the answers. It was obvious that he had been texting Richie and getting no response.

As the night progressed, and everyone else got increasingly more worried, Bev still focused Eddie.

She watched as his faint anxiety morphed into something that resembled real life fear. A look that could almost be compared to the way he had looked when Bev, Mike, and Ben had come in to find Richie on the ground of Neibolt with a spider in the form of Stan's head trying to maul him.

He grew more quiet, too, shrinking into himself and following the others back to the B&B like a ghost.

Bev didn't know what had her more worried: Richie's absence, or Eddie's reaction to it. 

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Bev watched as Eddie sighed in his sleep and nuzzled deeper into Richie's neck. Entirely at peace. Vastly different from the night before.

Whatever had happened, it seemed as though they had figured it out. She sure hoped so.

-&- 

Chicago was an experience to say the least.

Eddie had explained as they pulled into the suburbs that he was planning on leaving Myra and needed to get it over with as soon as possible. He couldn't handle the constant aggressive texts he was receiving and the endless phone calls with four minute long voicemails following each one.

So they had dropped him off at his home, and drove toward the city to pass the time until he called.

They parked downtown a few block away from Grant Park and began their trek. Beverly very pointedly positioned herself next to Richie.

"What's going on with you and Eddie?" she whispered as they walked. Her and Richie were bringing up the rear, and she knew they had a little while to chat before they would reach their destination. They were headed to Willis Tower, first.

At her words, Richie stiffened noticeably. However, it seemed as though he was doing everything in his power to make it appear as inconspicuous as possible. "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, Rich. You guys have been attached at the hip since we left Derry. And that whole thing out on Neibolt street?"

"Bev, I had just seen him die," Richie said, defensively. "I figured if anyone would understand it would be you, since you'd been caught in the deadlights, too."

"No, I get that, Richie, I do. I understand," she continued, and her voice was subdued and gentle as though trying to coax him into ease. "But I think it's more than that, too...What happened last night?"

"Oh," Richie offered an awkward chuckle. "That was nothing, a misunderstanding. I just ran to the gas station and lost track of time, y'know?"

Beverly gave Richie a look that simply said: I don't believe a word you're saying.

"You know you can talk to me, right, Richie? Like, about anything. Remember when we were kids, we'd sit down in the clubhouse for hours smoking cigarettes and talking about serious shit. I'll always be here for you." Bev placed her hand on Richie's bicep and watched him deflate under her touch.

He glanced around for a moment, making sure the others weren't paying attention.

"I think I'm in love with him, Bevvie," he stated, sadly, and said no more.

At this, Bev looped her arm under his and dropped her head to his shoulder as they walked. "Oh, honey. I've known that since we were kids."

Without a word, Richie turned his head to watch her. The look on his face was ambiguous and unreadable. However, the look in his eyes gave him away. Beneath the fear, she could see admiration there. Something warm settled in her stomach.

She had always loved Richie so much, he was like the brother she never had.

"How did you know?" he asked finally.

"It was always just obvious to me," she started, and then clarified: "Not that you were obvious in anyway, don't worry, I'm positive I was the only one who knew. Except Stan..." she trailed off, her words tender and aching. "Stan definitely knew, that boy knew everything." The fondness in her words was thick, and God, Richie missed Stan so much it felt like a physical blow to the chest. "Not that it would matter. To any one of them. But anyways, I saw the way you looked at him. The way you two acted together." Beverly thought for a long moment, carefully considering her next words, hesitant to interfere or assume. However, she knew she was correct in her observation. God, it had never even been a question. "I think I'm not wrong in assuming he feels the same way, love."

Richie cleared his throat and was quiet for a long while. "We kissed in the bathroom last night at the bar. That's why I left." He casually pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, and lit them both. "That's why I went to the gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes for the first time in well over a year and smoked almost half of the pack in two hours."

"Richie," she chastised, even as she brought her own cigarette to her lips. "He was so worried about you, you know. I know he was texting you and probably telling you as much, but I can't even begin to tell you how worried he was."

They walked in silence for several moments, before Beverly decided to add to her statement. "We were walking to the Uber, and he was just trailing behind us quietly. At the time I didn't really get it, but now after you told me that...I think he was scared he pushed you away."

"He could never push me away, Bev. I'd do anything for him."

"Babe, he doesn't know that...he's probably worrying about all of the same shit I know you're worrying about," she eased. She wanted so badly for him to see just how much Eddie cared for him. She didn't like to meddle in other people's lives, but she hated seeing Richie so torn. "Don't you think its a bit odd that he's ending his marriage so suddenly?"

"No," Richie responded hastily. "He told me the other day in the hotel that he hasn't been happy for a long time."

Bev gave him a look and sighed, resigned to the fact that Richie was going to have to figure it out on his own. "Then you need to talk to him. Don't you dare withdraw into yourself and close him out. I will personally end you if you ruin this for yourself and him."

At that, Richie chuckled. "Thanks, babe, always knew you would whip me into line. You won't say anything about any of this to the others, right?"

She smiled. "Of course not. You know I wouldn't."

Suddenly, Richie chuckled sadly and glanced to the ground. "I wish Stan was here to give me shit about it, too, Bev. I bet he'd roll his eyes and tell me to stop being so dramatic. God, I miss him so much."

And, in that moment, Beverly couldn't understand how her heart was big enough to hold all the love she had for all of these boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! Much love!


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